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Out On Bond
Duwap Kaine
Out On Bond video


Out On Bond Lyrics

Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (Oh)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Bitch, I'm not talkin' 'bout iPhone when I just said I made an air drop (Damn, damn, damn)
V-VVS fit with them teardrops (Damn, damn)
f*ckin' your ho and I'm makin' her bed rock (Damn)
I read the money, f*ck a bookshop
I'm makin' edibles in a crockpot
Dolce Gabbana my flip-flops
Whippin' that pot, nigga, 'til my wrist lock
Got long hair, I don't got a flat top
Love totin' guns 'cause my brother chop
I do not f*ck with 911, I do not see myself being a cop
I only see myself at the top
I just see f*ck niggas being opps
I'm a young nigga, Sir Flex-a-Lot
When in the f*ck the beat gon' drop? (Woo)
Where my bros with a thot?
Flex music, no, this not hip-hop
Hit him with a SIG, nigga, and he hip and he hop
Uppin' my pistol whеn I'm finna hop
Can't trust the plug, nigga, I got set up
I'm goin' through it, you said, "Keep your head up"
Not 'bout thеse bitches, man, I'm 'bout the cheddar
You know you a bitch, you a rumor spreader
I swear to God I do it better
Two rap bitches, yeah, Salt-N-Pepa
I spent a thousand dollars on a sweater
Just to wear that shit in any weather
Slow, I swear that all of these bitches be slow
Right at the store, right at the Citgo
And I'm in jail, but I don't need stove
'Cause I'm finna bond out, finna go, go, go

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Songwriter(s): Duwap Kaine
Record Label(s): 2022 Duwap Kaine Create Music Group
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